My Sister's Intended

by Rachael Anderson

  When she awoke hours later, moonlight shone through her windows. A tray containing soup and bread had been brought up at some point and now sat on a table near her bed. Prudence glanced at the clock at her bedside, surprised to see that it was already half past midnight. Scamp was nowhere to be seen, which meant Ruth had probably taken him out at some point.

  Groggily, Prudence pulled the tray onto her lap, sipped the tea, and ate the tepid soup. Then she curled back into a ball and closed her eyes again, hoping the previous day and all of its strange and disappointing events would become a thing of the past.

  “WHY THE DEUCE did you tell her that?” said Brand’s father, gaping at his son with a look of astonishment. “Have you gone mad?”

  Brand dropped his head to his hands to massage his aching temples. During his drive back from Talford Hall yesterday afternoon, he had decided to wait another day to speak with his parents. His conversation with the Giffords had not gone well, and he needed time to regroup before enduring another dreadful conversation. Unfortunately, he’d awakened with the devil of a headache.

  Mr. and Mrs. Gifford had initially welcomed him with pleasure, but as soon as he told them there would be no betrothal between him and their eldest daughter, their demeanors turned cold—Mrs. Gifford’s especially. She had accused Brand of playing with her daughter’s emotions and discarding them without concern for what this would do to her reputation. Everyone had expected an announcement. What was everyone to think now? After years of planning, how could he walk away from their understanding and still call himself a gentleman?

  Brand explained that he had never committed to marry their daughter and was under no obligation to do so—that it had only and ever been a possibility—but his words hadn’t pacified Mrs. Gifford in the least. That possibility had been a certainty in her eyes—his Father’s too, judging by the way he looked at Brand now. His son had strayed from what was expected, and no one liked that sort of surprise—not even his mother, though she appeared more troubled than upset.

  A pain pounded through his head, feeling like a lead ball rolling from one side to the other.

  “Yes, Father,” said Brand dryly. “I have gone mad.”

  He should have waited until his head had ceased thudding to start this conversation. How many people would he disappoint before all was said and done? Would Prudence be upset with him as well? He prayed not. Although she had done her best to bring him and Sophia together, everything had changed along the way, hadn’t it? Wasn’t that the reason she had ceased exchanging notes with him—because she had become too attached and knew it would be wrong to continue?

  “I’m glad you have realized that. Now return to Talford Hall at once and sort this out with Miss Gifford.”

  Brand leaned back in his chair, grimacing when another weighty pain thundered through his head. He had hoped he could count on his mother for at least a little support, but thus far she had said nothing. She merely sat beside her husband, her brow creased in worry.

  “We have already sorted it all out, Father. That is what I am attempting to explain to you.”

  “Codswallop,” he muttered. “You only think you have it sorted out, but you are wrong. What can you be thinking? In love with another woman? Hah! You are no more in love with Catherine Harper than I am.”

  Brand lifted his head to look at his father, immediately regretting the action when it brought on another stab of pain. His parents had assumed he had been talking about Catherine, which now that Brand thought about it, had been the logical assumption to make. Not only had he spent a great deal of time with her of late, observing the progress between her and Brute, but his parents had no notion of his communications with Prudence. No one did. Sophia had probably assumed he had been talking about Catherine as well.

  What would their reactions be when the truth came to light? It would undoubtedly come as a shock to everyone, and Brand could only imagine what the aftermath would be.

  Deuce take it, my head hurts.

  At last his mother spoke. “I realize Catherine is a beautiful woman and you have a close connection to her, but I must agree with your father on this. I worry you are mistaking feelings of sympathy for love.”

  Brand hesitated correcting her. He needed to speak with Prudence before he revealed anything to anyone. If she did not care for him as he did her, there would be no need to reveal anything. It would simply be one more secret the two of them shared.

  But he couldn’t allow his parents to go on thinking that he was pining after Catherine either. That wouldn’t be fair to her.

  He closed his eyes and massaged his temples again, wishing the pain would depart. “It is not Catherine I speak of.”

  Silence followed this pronouncement, and Brand nearly smiled. It wasn’t often he stunned his parents into silence.

  “If not Catherine, then who?” came his father’s brusque tone.

  Brand grimaced as he leaned forward, pinching the bridge of a nose. “One of the kitchen maids, obviously. She helps cook out on occasion, and I’m vastly fond of her sweetmeats.”

  “What in thunderation?” boomed his father. The loudness of his voice made Brand instantly regret baiting them. He grimaced again, trying to ward off the fresh onslaught of pain.

  “I believe he is only joking, dearest,” said his mother in a quiet voice, no doubt sensing her son’s discomfort.

  “Of course he is,” said his father, still far too loud for Brand’s liking. “But even he must know that we are not in the mood for pranks.”

  “And I am not in the mood to continue this conversation,” said Brand, slowly pushing himself up from the chair. “Please excuse me. I have the devil of a headache.”

  “Sit back down,” commanded his father. “If you have declared yourself to another woman in such a reckless fashion, I must know who she is.”

  “I haven’t declared myself to anyone, Father. I haven’t even ascertained her feelings on the matter.”

  “You have not ascertained her feelings?” his father cried, his voice rising to a torturous decibel. “What nonsense is this? Surely you must know where her affections lie.”

  Brand pried open his eyes to meet his father’s stare. “I do not.”

  “Then why send Miss Gifford packing? None of this makes any sense! Who is this woman you speak of?” His father was growing more irate by the moment, making Brand think his exchange with the Giffords had been tame by comparison.

  “I couldn’t very well declare myself while I was courting her si—” Brand stopped abruptly and quickly amended his words. “Courting Sophia.”

  His father didn’t seem to notice his slip of the tongue, but his mother’s expression became shrewd. Blast. She had probably made the connection and was now wondering how Brand had come to know the younger Gifford daughter.

  “How can you call her by her Christian name and claim to have no feelings for her?” spluttered his father.

  Brand caught his mother’s gaze and silently pled with her to keep her thoughts to herself.

  “Sophia and I have become good friends, Father, just as Catherine and I are good friends. But I harbor no feelings stronger than friendship for either woman.”

  “What is so wrong with a marriage based on friendship?” cried his father. “A great many unions have been formed on less.”

  “If that is the case, why not marry Catherine?” said Brand, pointing out his father’s hypocrisy.

  “Because she is not heiress to Talford Hall, obviously.”

  Obviously. Brand inhaled deeply, attempting to calm his rising temper. He needed to remember that his father had just suffered a bitter disappointment. Years of planning and hoping and dreaming had come to naught in an instant. Of course he’d be upset. He had every right to be upset. His one and only son had let him down.

  Compassion filled Brand as he looked down at his sire. The creases across his forehead and around his eyes made him look even older than usual. Brand couldn’t leave without giving it one more try.

>   “Someday, I will find a way to expand this estate and increase our holdings, Father, but I will not do so by wedding a woman I cannot love. I hope you can learn to accept that at some point. In the meantime, I have promised Catherine that I will attend her soirée tonight, and I mean to follow through on this promise, so if you’ll excuse me, I really must do something about this blasted headache.”

  His father glared at him as he passed, but his mother merely nodded, saying nothing. As Brand exited the room, her calm and quiet voice reached Brand’s ears.

  “Tell me, my love, if I had been penniless when we met, would you still have married me?”

  Brand didn’t wait to hear his father’s response because he already knew what it would be. His father loved his mother too much to ever say anything other than “Yes.”

  When Brand reached his bedchamber and laid his aching head on his pillow, he thanked the heavens for his angel mother.

  PRUDENCE’S FINGERS FLEW across the keys of the pianoforte, playing a lively waltz. As much as she complained about the instrument, she enjoyed creating music, especially when her mother was away from home. The melodies soothed her soul, and if there was one thing her soul needed at present, it was soothing.

  Prudence closed her eyes and envisioned herself dancing away at Almack’s in the arms of a handsome man. He spun her around and around and around, making her laugh and feel beautiful, intelligent, and witty. It was a lovely dream—one Prudence had imagined often over the years. Sometimes the man would have blond, curly hair and mischievous eyes and other times he’d have a darker, more mysterious look about him. But as she tried to picture him now, the only face that appeared in her mind was Lord Knave’s.

  Her eyes popped open, and her fingers stilled on the keys. Why couldn’t she rid her mind of that man? He pestered her thoughts throughout the day and invaded her dreams at night, and now she couldn’t even imagine a dance without him.

  A throat cleared from the doorway, and Prudence looked over to see the butler.

  “Forgive the intrusion, Miss Prudence, but Lady Bradden has come to call.”

  Lady Bradden? Prudence frowned, wondering what the butler wanted her to do about it. Beyond a few exchanged greetings, she had never spoken to Lady Bradden. Surely the woman had not come to see her. “Did you inform her that my mother and sister are away from home?”

  “Yes. She asked if you are receiving callers.”

  Me? How very odd. It was on the tip of her tongue to say that no, she was not, but… well, why shouldn’t she receive Lady Bradden? Prudence could certainly use the distraction. From the time she’d awakened that morning, her family had made themselves scarce. Her parents had gone to meet with their man of business in town and Sophia had gone out riding. Again.

  Talford was beginning to feel like a tomb. Any form of company would be a welcome change—even the mother of the man she was trying to forget. She hoped.

  “Please show Lady Bradden in.”

  The butler bowed and left the room.

  Somewhat nervous, Prudence rose from the pianoforte and clasped her fingers in front of her, watching the open doorway for signs of Lady Bradden.

  The butler showed her in moments later, and Prudence was met with the friendliest of smiles. The woman wore a peach muslin gown with a matching bonnet. She looked lovely and fresh and happy.

  Definitely a welcome change.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Miss Prudence,” she said without preamble. “Was that you playing the pianoforte so beautifully?”

  “I, er…” Prudence glanced at the instrument. “I’m not sure I would call it beautiful, my lady, but yes, I do enjoy playing now and again. Please, have a seat.”

  Lady Bradden settled herself on a chair with a natural elegance that reminded Prudence of her sister.

  “Would you care for some tea?” Prudence asked.

  “No. I cannot stay for long.”

  Prudence took a seat across from her, curious as to the reason Lady Bradden had come. The woman was rather intimidating, and Prudence wished she had Scamp with her. His antics would have lightened her discomfort.

  “You are probably wondering why I asked to speak with you.”

  The woman was certainly frank, Prudence thought, liking her already. “The thought did cross my mind, my lady, although I am glad you have come. This house has been far too quiet today.”

  “I had come to speak with your mother, but when the butler informed me that you were the only one at home, I thought I would take the opportunity to further our acquaintance. We are neighbors, after all. It seems a pity that I don’t know you as well as I know your mother and sister.”

  Prudence smiled. “Yes. I never thought it fair that my sister was allowed to dine with your family while I was sentenced to the nursery, but such is life. Besides, I knew I would eventually get the chance to become better acquainted, considering our families will one day be aligned.” Not that Prudence looked forward to that day. The very idea of having to stand in the background while her sister made her vows to Lord Knave made her want to vomit.

  “Oh?” said Lady Bradden, her expression both surprised and intrigued.

  Prudence immediately regretted her words. Perhaps it was only the Gifford family who spoke as though Lord Knave and Sophia were already betrothed. Lady Bradden was apparently much less assuming.

  Prudence was quick to amend, “That is to say, if your son and my sister…” Goodness, how did one finish that sentence delicately?

  Lady Bradden nodded slowly. “Yes, I suppose there is a very good chance we’ll become more than neighbors one day, isn’t there?”

  She made it sound as though she’d only just come to that realization, which made no sense. Everyone in the entire town and surrounding villages knew of the understanding. Or was there something else—something Lady Bradden wasn’t saying?

  So much for Prudence thinking the woman frank.

  “Tell me, my dear,” Lady Bradden went on, “aside from the pianoforte, what other pastimes do you enjoy?”

  The abrupt shift in conversation gave Prudence pause. It took a moment for her to adjust her thinking and decide how to answer the question. She couldn’t very well say, I enjoy speaking and exchanging notes with your son to discuss elements of the book I am writing. I also very much enjoyed kissing him and would dearly love to do it again.

  She felt a blush creep into her cheeks and frantically tried to think of something to say. “I, er… enjoy walking through the woods around our house.” And Radbourne’s, she thought wryly.

  “Indeed?” That seemed to pique her interest. “Do you walk alone?”

  “Not usually. Scamp accompanies me.”

  “Scamp?”

  “My puppy.”

  “Oh.” She laughed. “I should have gathered as much. Where is this Scamp now?”

  “I asked one of the maids to take him out. He was yipping something terrible while I was trying to play. Either he doesn’t care for sonatas or he was attempting to sing along. Regardless, I was not in the mood to tolerate the noise.”

  “I see,” said Lady Bradden, as though she saw far more than Prudence did. “I must confess that I do not care much for animals. My son, Lord Knave—you are acquainted with him, are you not?”

  “Er… yes. A little.”

  “Well, he has taken on this beast of a dog called Brute as a kindness to a friend, and I cannot like it at all. The animal has destroyed my dahlias and shredded my clematis vines. I’m certain his howl would make your puppy’s singing sound lovely.”

  Prudence had to stop herself from blurting out that she was well acquainted with Brute’s howl and couldn’t agree more. “He sounds like quite the character.”

  “Yes. I’m surprised you have not encountered them in the woods. My son also enjoys walking the grounds and usually takes Brute with him.”

  “Does he?” Prudence asked a little too quickly and high-pitched. She looked down at her lap and fiddled with the folds of her skirt. “I’m certain he a
nd Sophia will make the perfect pair. She is quite fond of animals as well. In fact, I believe she has been helping Lord Knave and Mrs. Harper with Brute, has she not?”

  “Thankfully, yes. With any luck, we might actually be rid of the beast one of these days. Pray do not tell Mrs. Harper I said that.”

  Prudence had to smile at that. “Your secret is safe with me, my lady.”

  “I am glad to hear it. Now tell me, Miss Prudence, why is it that I haven’t seen you out in society of late? I noticed you early on in the summer, but you all but disappeared after that. I assumed you had taken ill, but you appear in perfect health to me. Do you not enjoy socializing?”

  Prudence shifted in her seat, wishing her mother or Sophia would walk through the door and put an end to their tête-à-tête. She didn’t know how long she could go on thinking up creative and evasive answers to the woman’s many questions.

  “I will be attending Mrs. Harper’s soirée this evening,” she said at last with forced brightness.

  “Indeed? That is happy news.”

  “I am glad you think so.” Prudence couldn’t feel nearly as pleased. Earlier that morning, when Ruth had breezed into her room to rifle through her wardrobe, explaining that her mother wanted her to attend the dinner party that evening, Prudence had felt only dread. She considered feigning another stomach ailment and crying off, but the memory of her mother’s quiet sobs changed her mind. Prudence couldn’t bring herself to go against her mother over such a paltry thing, not when something was so obviously amiss.

  Lady Bradden stood abruptly and began pulling on her gloves. “I’m afraid I must be on my way. It was a pleasure speaking with you, my dear. I’m sure I will see you tonight. Please tell your mother and sister that I am sorry to have missed them.”

  Prudence rose as well and watched Lady Bradden exit the way she had come—graceful and unexpected. She wondered at the strange exchange as she slowly sank back down. Normally, conversation came so easy for her, but with Lady Bradden it had felt forced and awkward. Prudence had even wished for Scamp’s presence the way Sophia had often wished for hers.